Once upon a time there were three billy goats, who were to go up to the hillside to make themselves fat, and the name of all three was "Gruff."
On the way up was a bridge over a cascading stream they had to cross; and under the bridge lived a great ugly troll , with eyes as big as saucers, and a nose as long as a poker.
—The Three Billy Goats Gruff
"You know, this is the day I died."
"What about it?"
"Shouldn't it bother me more?"
"Once it's happened, there's nothing more to be afraid of. I'm not too upset about Good Friday, these days."
"But clearly I still care enough about death to not have moved on."
"Some of us need to cling more tightly to linearity than others."
Harry had never celebrated Halloween before. Uncle Vernon liked to pick and choose various practices from different Christian denominations, and he had borrowed the non-practice of Halloween from the Jehovah's Witnesses. Vernon had proclaimed that Halloween was rooted in the pagan celebration of a false god, and that no dark magic would be celebrated in their home. This was mostly an empty gesture, as very few people in Little Whinging went out of their way to celebrate Halloween anyways.
In retrospect, that made a lot more sense, for Halloween at Hogwarts was celebrated concurrent to Samhain. There was a great bonfire at the far end of the Great Hall, and food left as an offering to the ghosts and other, unseen ancestors. There would be apple bobbing and other festivities after the feast, and most of Gryffindor was looking forward to it. Most of this was completely unlike the quiet "Halloweens" on Privet Drive. Once again, Harry concluded that Draco Malfoy was full of shit and that there was no way Dumbledore had any interest in suppressing Samhain, though of course that raised the question why that line of rhetoric was so persuasive.
Maybe it was just an obvious lie no one felt like contradicting. Harry was familiar with those, having grown up listening to Uncle Vernon.
Harry didn't feel much like celebrating. He'd looked into his fame some, and he'd realized something all too upsetting. Today was the day his parents died. But he was good at faking a smile, or at least conforming while also being subversive. Vernon and Petunia had taught that to him.
The atmosphere was jovial, at first, and Harry did his best not to ruin everyone else's mood. He briefly overheard some blonde girl in Slytherin telling her friend how she was relatively sure Hermione was doing dark rites in a bath and roughly where that was, and how it was probably pretty cool and how she wished she could watch and talk to demons herself. But then, Professor Quirrell came running in.
He shouted, "Troll! In the dungeon!"
Then, much more calmly, "Just thought you ought to know."
And then he fainted.
The Great Hall was thrown into a great kerfuffle. The teachers began ordering people out, and Harry, dutifully, went with Ron. But then he paused.
"Hang on—Hermione."
"What about her?" Ron said. "She still isn't talking to you."
"She's not here," said Harry. "And she doesn't know about the troll."'
"And none of her other 'friends' are helping," said Ron, glancing at the Slytherin table. "Oh, alright. But we better not get caught."
They shuffled through a mass of Hufflepuffs and slid down a corridor, ignoring McGonagall's cries to keep calm and carry on. "Where is she, anyways?" said Ron.
Harry hesitated. "In a bath."
"Harry, you dog. I didn't think you were that kind of person."
"It's not like that. At all. By the way, are cooties a magical creature?"
"I dunno," Ron said, "but it's possible. Now, where's this bath again?"
They headed roughly in the direction Harry had overheard. Ron held up his hand. "Can you smell something?"
Harry sniff, and smelled something like burning garbage and sulfur. And then they heard it— low grunts and howls of pain.
"Come on, let's go," Harry said. And they ran towards the obvious danger. And they saw a truly bizarre sight.
Hermione Granger stood alone, her robes sticking to her, facing a twelve foot tall troll. The shadows danced around her, and her eyes seemed to glow crimson. Her hair was damp, as if she'd wrung it out in a hurry. As they watched, the troll roared in frustration, and swung its club at her. She rolled out of the way, and one of the shadows flew at the troll, clawing at its face, but to little effect.
And though Harry was disgusted by the troll, he was deeply perturbed by the dancing shadows. He could see faces in them, spirits that refused to take form, with no order or mercy. He was afraid.
"Don't just stand there, help me!" Hermione shouted, seeing them for the first time.
"We've been doing magic for a month!" Ron shouted back at her. "What are we supposed to do?"
The troll seemed to hear him, and turned towards them; Harry and Ron scuttled back. Hermione shot some sort of spell at the troll's ankle. It fell to the ground, but as quickly stood back up again, its body regenerating the damage.
"I never learned about trolls, I didn't think they were real!" said Hermione.
"They're not in the Bible," said Harry. "I thought they were a metaphor for people like my uncle."
Ron audibly rolled his eyes. "Fine, I guess I have to know everything. My brother Charlie, he was really into trolls before he discovered dragons. Anyways," he said, jumping backwards, "he said that sunlight doesn't really turn them into stone, usually, they just fake it, but fire hurts them. Other magic isn't great. But sun or light is usually enough to stall them."
"Oh, wonderful," said Hermione, as she ducked to avoid the troll's club. She nodded towards one of her shadows, that looked vaguely like a wolf with eagle wings. It swooped at the troll, spewing a shadow from its mouth, that shimmered like fire but wasn't really there.
The troll batted at the shadows, but seemed confused when its hands passed right through without pain. Then it roared, turnbing upon them again.
Hermione swore. "Damn the castle wards, they're getting in the way. It's too bad I can't cast Fiendfyre."
"Are you mad?!" said Ron, from behind a pillar.
"What's Fiendfyre?" Harry said. It sure didn't sound good. It sounded vaguely Satanic.
"Can we focus on the troll we're barely holding back, please?" said Hermione with some acidity.
Harry was struck by a flash of inspiration, of a vague memory of divine euphoria. Back when he had just started trying to befriend Hermione, when they'd been approached by an odd older student and Hermione had try to buy his soul. Madame Pince had burned that contract with holy fire, leaving not even ash behind. Now, if he could just remember the word…
"I can't keep dodging forever!" Hermione said. As if on cue, she misjudged her dodge, and the troll's club hit the castle tiles right besides her. She was knocked to the ground, and the troll raised its club.
This was bad. If Hermione died, there would be no saving her immortal soul, at least according to many interpretations of Christian doctrine!
Harry and Ron both reacted. Ron grabbed a piece of rubble and threw it at the troll. "Oi! Over here, smelly!"
The troll turned towards them. Ron swallowed. "Harry, you go get her, and I'll keep it distracted. I'll try to keep it distracted."
But Harry had another plan. He steeled himself, and raised his wand, standing right in the troll's path. He thought of the incantation Pince had used — Empyreus. And he thought of his faith. Of his belief in Jesus Christ, and how Christ was the path to salvation for all men and women. How Christ had given his life so man could be saved, and ascended to Heaven to sit forever at the right hand of God the Father. He thought of how Christ had gone willingly to his death, knowing that his sacrifice would absolve humanity of the original sin. Christ opened a door, and it was everyone's choice to take it. And he could see the light of heaven in his mind's eye. Oh, how beautiful it was.
"Potter, what are you doing?" Hermione shouted.
He could almost feel the heat of the troll upon him, but he held his wand straight. Oh, how beautiful heaven would be, endless choirs of angels singing holy praise. A perfect reward for a life well-lived, if he lived that long.
A shadow rose above him. The troll had raised its club, and had started to swing. He was aware that Hermione had started firing curses at the troll, and that Ron was calling his name, and that he had but a scant few moments to act.
He whispered, "Empyreus."
He might die, but death did not scare him. For he was one in Christ.
And a billowing cloud of white fire spouted from the tip of his wand, enveloping the troll. The light danced across its hide, gleaming and brilliant, purifying and fiery. There were bursts of light and horrid shrieks, like steam escaping a kettle, as the shadows near Hermione vanished with bursts of crimson light. The troll's movements slowed, and its club stopped barely a foot above Harry's head.
The white fire faded. The troll had become stone.
Severus Snape hated his life.
His leg was mangled, he was currently repressing great pain, and now he'd stumbled across three of his least favorite students and a statue that hadn't been there a moment before. Why didn't Pomona or Filius ever have to deal with this sort of thing?
"What. Happened. Here," he said through gritted teeth.
Harry Potter looked exactly like James in the one time he'd ever had to face consequences, the Weasley was surprisingly unprepared to explain away his mischief, and the Granger girl was doing a puppy-dog eyes approach. There was something different about her, and Severus uncomfortably realized that the air around her was clearer.
"It was me," said the girl. "I've read about the troll, and I thought I could take it, but I was wrong, and then Harry and Ron came and opened a window and the troll got hit by a stray magic sunbeam. I guess the castle must have defenses, professor! I'm so glad I'm alive. Sir."
Severus Snape looked at her, and then at the boys, both of whom were clearly slightly surprised. Severus couldn't quite tell whether they were surprised that she was obviously lying for them, or at the stupidity of the lie.
"Completely unacceptable, Miss Granger."
"But Professor—"
"That is complete and total bullcrap, and if I were Professor Mcgonagall I would be well within my rights to expel you for such an absurd and obvious fabrication. You are a terrible, terrible liar and it's past time someone made you aware of that fact. Do you think adults are stupid, Miss Granger?"
The Granger girl looked shocked at his words. Severus knew he was a spiteful, angry man who liked to bully children, and he was pretty sure that these children deserved to be bullied for being rulebreakers.
"I rather thought 'Thou shalt not lie' was a rule you lived by, Mister Potter," said Snape, turning on the Potter boy. "Do you have anything to say for yourself? Going to take the credit?"
Potter just looked at his feet, and Snape felt a little guilty. He was still judging the boy as James's spawn, when he was acting more like the aggregated psychological damage of Petunia Evans raising a child. For a brief second, he considered mentoring the boy and subtly teaching him how to make Petunia's life a living hell before realizing that it probably already was one, and that would mean helping James Potter's spawn.
"Regardless, Miss Granger," he said, turning back on her, "You are not going to take the credit for seeking to slay a troll. You are already known to consort with demons, and we allow that because someone with your talent must be trained—so long as you do not give us reason to believe you are the next Dark Lord. Attempting to hunt and slay a troll, and turning it to stone in a time with no natural sunlight, is enough to brand you reckless and incredibly dangerous."
She seemed sufficiently cowed by this, and Severus allowed himself to look at the troll closer. He pulled out his wand and tapped it a few times, muttering under his breath. This wasn't his field of specialty—he would defer to Minerva or Hagrid on that. He was fully aware that legend said trolls turned to stone in sunlight, and was as aware that the reality was the creatures merely mimicked the appearance of stone so as to avoid attention in broad daylight. So it was very odd that the troll was stone all the way through, as if transmuted in its entirety.
A true petrification. Irreversible by mandrake draught.
Very, very dark magic.
"Did you do this, Miss Granger?" Severus said, slowly and lethally, as he stared her in the eye. It was a pity that no one had reigned the Granger girl in, before she'd done something the Ministry would throw her in Azkaban for. There were usually one or two students at Hogwarts at any given time who were a bit too familiar with demons without proper safeguards—Severus had been a precocious child himself—and usually the Ministry turned a blind eye to their existence, since seven years of schooling was usually enough to teach them religious best practices, but some offenses were beyond the pale.
"No, sir," she said, and with a start Severus realized that she wasn't lying. It had been the Potter boy.
"What happened, Potter?" he said, peering into the boy's mind. He almost recoiled at the surety of the boy's faith, and saw the boy summon empyrean fire, and withdrew, barely even listening to his stammered explanation.
This would be difficult to explain. The Granger was innocent, surprisingly enough, and Severus was slightly sympathetic to falsely accused students, and trying to scapegoat her would be foolish given that Potter had suicidally leaned on his faith in trying to save her. (Wasn't there some prohibition against that, something about not trying to force miracles from God? Some story about not jumping off of a cliff and asking God for food?)
But letting the Potter boy take the credit… he immediately balked, reminded of James. But then he thought of Lily, and the great lengths she'd gone to avoid becoming a pawn of the Ministry. He could honor her memory, in that sense, and hide her son's talents, while also denying James's spawn a chance at glory. But the Granger girl hadn't done anything more wrong than usual, and Severus knew that the promise of power could be intoxicating.
There was really only one option.
"Weasley," said Severus. The boy jumped. Severus ignored it. "How easily could your brothers bottle sunlight?"
"Bill maybe," said the boy. "Umm… I don't think Percy or Charlie—"
"Not them," spat Severus, "the twins."
"I have no idea what they're capable of," said the Weasley boy with a shudder.
"Good enough," said Severus. There was a rush of footsteps. McGonagall and Quirrell had arrived. Both of them stared at the statue, their faces unreadable.
"Ah, Minerva, Quirinus," Severus said silkily. "Miss Granger was unfortunate enough to be caught up here, and Mister Potter and Mister Weasley arrived seeking her. Mister Potter was unfortunately worse than useless, but Mister Weasley here had one of his brothers' highly illicit concoctions—a philter of liquid sunlight potent enough to petrify the troll. They, of course, will be serving detention with me for such reckless experiments."
Minerva, of course, had started waving her wand around the troll, no doubt coming to similar conclusions as he had, but Quirinus, the enigma, just had to get a word in.
"So that's the story we're letting get around, Severus? Rather… three-faced of you."
"Quirinus—" Minerva said.
"I imagine that we can't let the student body think that little miss muggleborn Satanist here is strong enough to petrify a mountain troll, or that the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Uses-Heaven-Magic is coming into his political power, so of course we can blame this mysterious event on the Weasley terrors and the student body won't blink an eye."
"I'd think you'd be in favor of such an idea," said Severus, "you've been telling them to be dishonest about themselves for the whole year. Why, Miss Granger here is nearly as good as you in the arts of deception."
"I would ask, Severus, if the Weasley terrors know that bottled sunlight is a novel and undiscovered innovation, or whether you were planning on letting them figure it out and taking the credit, but we both know you don't need to. You have a litany of dark spells to your name, after all."
"Enough!" McGonagall snapped. "I thought I would be chastising three reckless students, not dealing with two petty teachers. Are you three alright with this ridiculous cover story of Professor Snape's?"
They just looked at her, because it was inconceivable that Professor McGonagall would actively encourage students to lie.
"Weasley, take the credit. Your brothers wouldn't hesitate to," she said. "Miss Granger, I see you've finally done away with your companions. Pity it took such danger for you to do so. And Mister Potter, what you did should not be possible—but I suppose we are dealing with the Boy-Who-Lived. Now, points, Severus?"
"I haven't done any," he said. He was going to have to live with this for the next few years, wasn't he? The Potter brat would stumble into danger, miraculously survive, and gain house points for it. He wholeheartedly wished he'd punched James Potter in the face, just once, or at least rendered him sterile.
"Very well," said McGonagall. "Five points from Gryffindor for reckless foolhardiness, but five points to Gryffindor—each—for putting aside your differences to defeat a mountain troll. Now, run along. You don't want to be in the way as we try to relocate this statue.
As the children waddled away, Severus couldn't help but overhear the Granger girl say, "So… does this mean we're 'friends' now?"
"I guess so," said the Potter brat. "We need to coordinate our stories, and I guess we can say we bonded over fighting the troll. Can we just not talk about our beliefs, though?"
"Sounds good to me," said the Weasley as he put his arms around both their shoulders. "Now, come on. I hope they moved the feast to the common room!"
Severus clenched his jaw so hard he suspected he was going to have to regrow his teeth.